32 bullets, he took 'em all, to shield others from unrelenting guns

(Baba Umar)

It was the morning of January 21, 1990. The sun came up without much sparkle but it shone on young Rauf’s face for the last time. For, by noon, he was lying on the ground in his favourite blue jacket and green shoes, his body pierced by a hail of troopers’ bullets.

And, two decades later, his family and those who saw him getting killed along with 52 other peaceful protesters in Kashmir’s first massacre since the armed rebellion broke out in 1989 against the Indian rule, try to look back on the event that gave birth to a generation of angry youngmen, a violent uprising and a separatist sentiment never seen before in Kashmir.

On that fateful morning, Abdur Rauf Wani (24) and his father G A Wani, a government employee, watched from the window a huge but peaceful procession passing through Maharaja Bazar, triggered by the news of molestation of women in the old city, strict curfews and restrictions.

It was also just a day after New Delhi appointed Jagmohan as J-K Governor in a bid to control mass protests by Kashmiris.

In the street below, men in thousands raised their fists, with slogans ‘Hum Kya Chahte... Azadi’ (We Want Freedom) renting the air. Nothing unusual, as people had grown used to these reminders. But Rauf, unable to contain the surge of emotions within, turned to his father and what followed was a little "more unusual".

“Bauji, this’ll be now begairti (disgrace), should we not join now,” Zulehama Banday, Rauf’s older sister recalls his brother’s conversation with dad.
The senior Wani looked back, waited for a moment and then nodded his head. “Should I go,” Rauf again insisted. “Yes,” his father replied.
Zulehama says it was the first time that the family had okayed Rouf's request to join the peaceful protests. Rauf was soon away, smashing a flower vase in hurry. He stumbled but got up immediately. He performed ablutions, fixed the shoe laces, adjusted his jeans and slid both arms in the blue jacket that he had slung on his right shoulder till then.

Onto the road. “A neighbour tried to stop him but he wouldn’t,” recalls Zulehama, who by now had joined her father at the window to see Rauf disappear in a swarm of youngmen.
The long strip of rally that begun from Jawahar Nagar and Ikhrajpora, Rajbagh to reach Budshah Chowk. Earlier proposed to stopover outside UNO at Sonawar, people in the front decided to drum up more support from inner city. The crowd swerved towards Maisuma that would lead demonstrators to inner city till it reached Gaw Kadal Bridge over the Jhelum.
When the front-liners of crowd were halfway across the Gaw Kadal, the paramilitary Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) opened fire with automatic machine guns from three directions. In the next few minutes, the bridge with littered with corpses and blood. The first day of Governor Jagmohan’s rule would pass in the bloodshed.

Muhammad Altaf Qureshi (50) remembers how the march was stopped with automatic machine guns and how a fearless youngman braved bullets from an unremitting gun nozzle.
“Without any provocation and warning, they fired on us,” he recalls. Qureshi, who was in the third row, says the sounds of unrelenting gunfire triggered a stampede on the wooden bridge. The charge pushed him on the deck and soon blood-stained bodies were dotting the spot. Whosoever tried to stand on his legs would be fired upon.
In this melee of bullets and screams, Qureshi noticed a youngman getting up, pushing aside with his hands both the dead and alive. “A trooper was showering bullets from a short distance and this youngman shielded people by blocking troopers’ view,” Qureshi recalls. “He took all the bullets on his chest.”

The youngster was none other than Rauf. Troopers with faces masked had emptied their carbines by puncturing Rauf’s abdomen and chest. The act of bravery saved scores from getting killed. Rauf finally collapsed, his face upwards; blood painting his blue jacket and green shoes with red.
Qureshi watched silently. He was motionless. The crowd had dispersed. ‘Mayhem’, ‘Massacre’, ‘God’ were the cries he heard from the receding crowd. On the bridge, troops were leaping on the corpses, kicking survivors and finishing them off. Qureshi pretended dead, hiding his face under someone’s blood-splattered torso.
“I preferred to lie with the bodies, knowing for sure I will be shot if I stirred. I closed my eyes and remembered Allah and recited Kalima without letting a sound come out,” he recalls.

Then the image of his three-month-old daughter flashed in his mind. He soon heard policemen speak in Kashmiri, shouting loud if someone was alive.
“For a while I pretended dead,” he says.
As if mere sack of flesh, blood and bones, the scene had deadened his body. He was picked up by a cop of J&K Police who inquired if he was alright. He saw policemen heave the bodies into a truck, over a tarpaulin and disappear from the spot.
“I was taken to a nearby fire station, from where I called up my home. They were waiting for my corpse after a friend and survivor told them about the massacre,” recalls Qureshi.
The news travelled to home faster than the body of Rauf. Zulehama, the other siblings and father panicked. Rauf had wished martyrdom when a funeral procession passed by the family’s house months back. Zulehama watched their elder brother Parvez Wani readying for Police Control Room (PCR), Batamaloo, where the injured and dead were taken.
At PCR gate Parvez struggled hard to enter the premises, as relatives of victims had already started to pour in. Back home, Rauf’s father was restless. He had allowed his son join the peaceful march. A sense of guilt had overtaken him. Others in the family were crying and consoling each other, assuming Rauf might have swum the river below the wooden bridge. Or he must have stayed at someone’s house.

“We were not sure, however,” Zulehama says.
Read More Here:
http://umarblogs.blogspot.com/2010/02/32-bullets-he-took-em-all-to-shield.html

Auschwitz in the old city by Sameer Bhat

Yeh kiska lahu, kaun mara
ai rahabar mulko kaum bata

~Whose blood is this, who died?
Oh leader of my nation, speak up
[My translation of Sahir Ludyanvi’s verse lines]

Word was out, like a lion that hadn’t eaten for days. Early Monday morning three gunmen had barged into the Lake view home of Kashmir’s Mirwaiz – Chief preacher and spiritual leader to more than five and a half million Kashmiri Muslims – and went straight to Maulvi Muhammad Farooq’s alcove. The men had the mental maps worked out and knew exactly where to find the head priest.

A hugely influential but controversial leader, Maulvi Farooq was quite urbane and classy. He would appear in Srinagar’s historical Jamia Mosque at noon-time on Fridays clad in an intricately embroidered gown and a Karakul cap with trademark black glasses. A thousand eyes would look at him in awe as he slowly ambled towards the pulpit of the 600-year old perfumed prayer hall, ornate in exquisite Indo-Saracenic architecture. All 370 wooden pillars in the mosque stood upstanding. The chandeliers pendulated.

But when have gun-barrels respected superior lineages? The men, who entered the Mirwaiz house, on May 21, 1990, pushed their way into his study and even before the 11th Mirwaiz of Kashmir could understand what was happening, a volley of bullets hit him. Centuries old reverence was brutally violated. Always pro-Pakistan, Maulvi Farooq had recently fallen out of favor with the hardliners. A meeting with India’s Kashmir affairs minister and subsequently calling the kidnapping of Rubiya Sayed ‘un-Islamic’ acted as an immediate provocation.

By the time the reverend was wheeled to the Sher-i-Kashmir [Lion of Kashmir] institute of medical sciences, a hospital ironically named after his bete-noire Sheikh Abdullah, with fifteen gun-wounds to his head, chest, stomach and legs, Mirwaiz was dead. Kashmir’s grand abbot was no more, slaughtered by his erstwhile followers. Irate crowds began to gather outside the hospital as news got around. Governor Jagmohan – recently dispatched to tame Kashmiris – got into a huddle with his security advisors at Raj Bhawan, a few kilometers away. Indignation rained.

There was some scuffle over Mirwaiz’s dead body. The hospital authorities were hesitant to hand it over. People took forcible control of the slain leader’s body and carried it in a procession through downtown Srinagar. The crowd swelled as more and more people joined the cortege. Sloganeering hastened. Women wailed. Near the Islamia College of science and commerce, located at Hawal, the 69th battalion of CRPF intercepted the marchers. Suddenly, skittish like stupefied horses, troopers aimed their guns on the mourners. A curtain of fire followed. 57 innocent people were cut to an instant death.

The pallbearers were all dead. Mirwaiz’s body fell off the coffin, on the road. Two more bullets hit his mortal remains. The air was rent with terrifying screams and more bullets, which seemed to ricochet off the walls and hit even more people. In less than three minutes, the funeral procession was reduced to a pile of dead. The road outside the college resembled a concentration camp, with bodies scattered all over, a blood-soaked coffin, hundreds of slippers, bedaubed in blood. Hawal was Srinagar’s little Auschwitz in that hour.

There are conflicting reports about what happened afterwards: Eye-witnesses who spoke to foreign media said that as soon as the CRPF guns fell silent (having exhausted their ammunition), around six to seven men -- from the procession -- collected Mirwaiz’s body from the roadside and placed it in the coffin. By all accounts they ran with the casket to Mirwaiz’s office. The cleric was later laid to rest in Srinagar’s Martyr’s graveyard. Those who perished in the blood-bath were buried the same day. Sometimes in history mourners can swiftly become mourned.

Ironically the man alleged to have led the hit squad to assassinate the Mirwaiz, Abdullah Bangroo, was killed less than a month later by troopers. In an atmosphere as malefic and morbid as Kashmir it is hard to sift through the official and unofficial versions. Often both are contradictory. Call it a quirk of fate, Abdullah Bangroo lies buried very close to Mirwaiz's tomb in the Martyr’s cemetery in Srinagar.

No one was ever charged or punished for the May 21 killings. Governor Jagmohan, under whose watch the mass murder took place, never showed any remorse.

Blood, bought for a song.

© 2010 Sameer

Burden of Memories

By Uzma Falak for Kashmir Dispatch

My memory keeps getting in the way of your history - Agha Shahid Ali.

A little over fifteen years ago, while holding my mother’s arm, I looked out from a window of my house in Srinagar. The sight though blurred now, my memory bears an indelible impression; men shouldering the dead in shrouds, women wailing and the air resonating with slogans of Hum Kya Chahtay? Azaadi! (What do we want? Freedom!) I vividly remember asking my mother, “When shall we get Azaadi?” I didn’t know what Azaadi meant, though I knew that the people of my land desperately wanted it. A long silence had followed my question.

Today, after all those years, I stand at the same window, now with a broken pane, bearing witness to the same yearning, anger and asking the same question to myself. When shall we be free?

No matter how hard our elders tried to shield us from the trail of destruction outside, their efforts failed. My generation grew up listening to terms like Curfew, Crackdown, Martyr, Tehreek. Azaadi was in the air – at the bakers’, in dining rooms, in buses and on the streets.

My childhood passed under the shadow of a gun. Dreams were interrupted by the deafening sound of gunshots and grenades. I remember my brother’s favourite past time was to make wooden toy-guns and play what he called ‘encounter-encounter’. During cricket matches no one around me would cheer for India. As a child, I failed to comprehend the sentiment, however, gradually in those small but strong signs I started to find my identity as a Kashmiri.

On a sunny afternoon, I remember walking home from school with my friends. The roads were barricaded, the troopers stopped us and one of them frisked our school bags. He even frisked my friend’s lunch box, which made me angry. I snapped back saying, “We are school going children and this is a lunch box. How can you expect...” He was red in the face as I looked sharply at him and walked away. Anger and excitement gripped me at the same time as I hurried back home to narrate what I thought was an act of gallantry. But, my mother was scared. She scolded me saying, “They could have shot you there and then.”

At educational institutions books conceal our history, even maps are distorted. But planners of such tactics forget that children here live in conflict and life is the greatest teacher.

The heavy presence of troopers, the army pickets at every nook and corner, the barbed wires and barricades, the frisking – it all seemed ‘normal’ until I stepped out of Kashmir and found a different world. It was then I realized that my home was not ‘normal’.

Debates surrounding us made me inquisitive and I found that in the United Nations, the state of Jammu and Kashmir was registered as a dispute after litigation made by the first Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. The UN suggested a plebiscite, which was accepted by Nehru and promised to the people of the state during his speech on All India Radio in 1948 and also while addressing a mammoth gathering at Lal Chowk in Srinagar. Nehru made this promise time and again.

But instead of holding to the promise, New Delhi indulged in systematic abrogation of the special status guaranteed to the state under the Treaty of Accession. Till 1987, observers say not a single state election could be termed ‘free and fair’; such doctored democracy could only breed rebellion. Two years later, an armed uprising erupted and New Delhi’s response was repressive, to say the least. The number of people killed is disputed, but the widely accepted figure is 70,000.

Since childhood I have only known the inhuman face of India’s presence. Victims of torture, rape, forced disappearances, unmarked graves, widows, half widows, orphans – their common address is Kashmir.

In 2005, a bomb blast outside Tyndale Biscoe and Mallinson girls’ school, where I studied, left me uneasy for days. Disturbing images of my classmates and children yelling, crying in pain; blood soaked uniforms and blood spilled floors. My helplessness at not being able to locate my younger brother in that huge crowd of media men, ambulances, OB vans and troopers still haunts me.

The picture perfect Kashmir, is not only about the picturesque Dal Lake and Mughal gardens it is also the most densely militarized zone in the world. Here minors are booked under draconian laws like the Public Safety Act (PSA), which allows people to be held without trial for up to two years. There are no juvenile homes here. The Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) gives Indian troops free hand to search, arrest, shoot and also provides them with immunity from prosecution. Human rights violations, a plagued justice system and bad governance are what people are protesting against.

With my childhood memories hoarded, 2010 only reinforced my identity as a child of conflict. And, it also came with a yearning to express our collective pain. For me writing became a consolation and a need.

Marked as the year of Innocent Killings, 2010 began with the killing of Inayat Khan, 16, who was shot by troopers on his way to tuition on January 8. Days later, Wamiq Farooq and Zahid Farooq, both school going boys like Inayat, became victims of the government forces’ actions. Worst was yet to come; on April 29, the Indian Army killed three Kashmiri youth in a fake encounter near the Line of Control (LoC) in the Machil sector. The situation became aggravated after 17-year-old, Tufail Ahmed Mattoo, who was returning from tuitions, was hit in the head with a teargas canister inside the Gani Memorial stadium in Srinagar’s old city. After that our days passed counting the dead; in total 118 people were killed during the summer unrest of 2010.

The words of Faiz Ahmed Faiz sum up our miseries. “The executioner's hands are clean, his nails transparent. The sleeves of each assassin are spotless. No sign of blood: No trace of red…”

Kashmiris have been alienated for decades. With every case that is forgotten, the memory sharpens. With every act of injustice a new stone thrower is born. The government has failed to reach people. In a volte-face, the government charged dead Wamiq, 13, of causing injury to a cop instead of bringing his murderers to book.

“There are countless pending cases and everyone knows the fate they meet. We don’t have any hopes. We can’t push it to the court for long. We are common, poor people and can’t afford the costs. Allah is the witness and that is the only consolation.” These words of a brother, whose sister was among those killed, speak volumes about the faith common man has in the judiciary.

Terms like healing touch, negotiation table and dialogue have been used and abused by the government repeatedly. In reality India’s answer to stones has been brute force. Though India’s diagnosis has always entered on development and employment, intentionally shoving the real issue under the rugs of oblivion. Labelling the unrest as part of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and Lashkar-e-Toiba (LeT) backed is seen as yet another desecration of Kashmir’s sentiment.

A 5th grader in my neighbourhood secretly comes out of his house, without letting his mother know, to pelt stones and register his protest. Is he, a boy in grade 5, funded by ISI or LeT or is he crying for employment? I will let you be the judge.

I saw 9-year-old Sameer Rah in shrouds, his tiny body on a stretcher, being carried for the burial. He was ruthlessly beaten to death, and when his body was found he still had a half eaten toffee in his mouth. I can’t forget the face of his wailing mother and my own helplessness as I stood on the street testifying. The tearful voice of Sameer’s friend from a mosque loudspeaker still echoes in my head, “Sameer your blood will bring revolution!”

Concertina wires, barricades, burning tires or its leftover, crushed glasses, scattered stones – these have become signposts on every street in Kashmir. The graffiti Go India Go, We Want Freedom – a message loud and clear, is what every street in Kashmir says.

While the idea of Azaadi remains dear to the heart of Kashmir, there has been a clear transition from guns to stones and slogans and many other forms of dissent. While peaceful protests on the streets are quelled, they have reached cyberspace. Videos and pictures, depicting the gory realities of New Delhi’s troops have been shared across the globe.

In these times, when the mind is busy in damage control and when everyday brings with it new ordeals, we have to keep our head and wage war against our memory lest we forget. Our memory is the strongest weapon in such times.

As a Kashmiri I don’t hate Indians; I have many Indian friends. The protest is against the impotency of the Indian government to understand our sentiment. It is over 60 years and India should respect the ideals of the democracy that it claims to uphold, otherwise, its global image of being the world’s ‘largest democracy’ might be dubbed as the biggest PR scam in history.

Iram, a forty-day-old baby girl, died just because she couldn’t make it to hospital as government forces did not allow her family through during curfew. Iram’s 5-year-old sister, when asked, innocently said woh margayi, military walon ne jaanay nahe diya (she died because troopers didn't let her go). Iram’s sister will find her identity as a Kashmiri in these signs, the way I did when I was a child. And when she grows up she too will sing the songs of Azaadi.

Courtesy: Kashmir Dispatch

Lest we Forget: Lal Chowk Massacre, April 10 1993

In one of the most devastating incidents of its kind, on April 10, 1993, a large section of downtown Srinagar known as Lal Chowk was burned to the ground by Indian paramilitary troops, apparently in retaliation for the burning of an abandoned BSF building by local residents. The BSF commanding officer refused to heed warnings about the security risks of abandoning the force’s headquarters and bunkers, and then ignored pleas for assistance from local police who were trying to protect these sites.

The incident, which was one of the largest such arson attack by Indian forces since the beginning of the conflict, left at least four civilians dead in the immediate area and more in attacks in nearby neighborhoods. Although the senior most civilian authority in the city, Deputy Commissioner Abdul Salam Bhatt, witnessed the behavior of the security forces, he did not intervene.

Officer Majeed (name changed) of the Jammu and Kashmir police, said that at 8:05 a.m. on April 10, he left the station on duty and walked toward Lal Chowk. Before he reached Lal Chowk, he was told that the BSF had vacated their building, the Sandam Dharam Sabha building, and their bunkers in Lal Chowk, which they had occupied since the beginning of the conflict. He entered the building and saw that no one was there, and that the bunker had been demolished

"The local people asked me why the forces had left. I went at 8:15 a.m. to see the BSF commander of the 117th division, B.R. Sharma, in the Dashma Akhara building. I saw that the troops, about 100 men, were standing in position, ready to move. I asked where the commander was, and a BSF deputy superintendent told me that the commander was in his office. I went straight to the office but Commanding Officer Sharma was not there; he was sleeping in the room next door and came out in his nightclothes at 8:15 a.m. I saluted him and told him that I was surprised that the BSF had withdrawn its troops without telling us. He said it was the order of a higher authority to withdraw the troops, and that he had started the withdrawal at 11:30 p.m. the night before. I told him the building was not safe because the local people set fire to buildings which have been abandoned by the security forces. I told him the BSF should provide me one platoon to protect the building. He said he had no troops available. I asked him to please give me six or seven men. He said he would see what he could do. I left the building."

Officer Majeed. informed his superiors at the police control room and then returned to Lal Chowk. When he approached the Sandam Dharam Sabha building he was warned by the crowd that had assembled at the building not to go in because it had been mined. Concerned that the building would be set on fire, he returned to C.O. Sharma’s office and again asked for troops to send to Lal Chowk. Officer Majeed. told: "C.O. Sharma then said, "Let us have a cup of tea." He ignored me. I told him it was not a time for tea, but a time to save Lal Chowk. He said he would arrange to send troops to Lal Chowk. I left the building and saw that the Sandam Dharam Sabha building had been set on fire. It was 8:50 a.m."

At that time, the fire was still small enough to be brought under control. Officer Majeed ordered the police control room to send the fire brigades, and within ten minutes the fire fighters arrived and tried to put out the fire.The gunfire continued for an hour and a half. Finally, after the fire was out of control, but the gunfire had stopped, the Inspector General of the BSF, Ashok Patel, the Additional Chief Secretary (Home), Mahmood ul-Rahman, the Additional Director General of the Crime Investigation Department (CID), Amar Kapoor, and the Advisor to Governor on Law and Order (Home) D.D. Saklani, arrived and asked what had happened. One of the Jammu and Kashmir police officers told them:

"I requested BSF to save Lal Chowk, but C.O. Sharma showed me a coldness and ignored my request."

The officer asked IG Patel to send army fire fighters. Patel responded that he had already requested them. An hour later Governor Krishna Rao and Director General of Police Bedi arrived. The fire was still raging out of control. At 2:30 p.m., a single army fire truck arrived with enough water to last ten or fifteen minutes.

Mazhar, a waiter at one of the hotels, said that on the morning of April 10, 1993, he came to work at the hotel at 8:00 a.m. Everything was quiet at that time and the bunkers near the hotel were still occupied by the security forces, as they had been for many months. Then at about 8:30 a.m. he heard people shouting slogans of "Azadi" (Freedom) and "We want freedom." He said that when he looked out of the first floor kitchen and dining room windows he saw Jammu and Kashmir police and civilians running in Lal Chowk in front of the hotel. Just after 8:30 a.m. he saw smoke and flames rising from the Sandam Dharam Sabha building. He said that at about that time a security vehicle arrived on the scene. The vehicle went towards the fire and then returned. He saw SSP Rajendra Kumar come out of the vehicle, walk toward the Sandam Dharam Sabha building and then walk back to the vehicle and put on a bullet-proof jacket and helmet. SSP Kumar then went inside the Akhara building. After half an hour, he and other security forces came out and, as Majeed. watched from the dining room windows, about 100 security forces surrounded Lal Chowk and started firing indiscriminately.

After the fire started, people who were trapped inside the buildings tried to push open the doors only to discover that they had been bolted from the outside and could not be opened from the inside. The soldiers moved down the street, one of them carrying a green plastic bucket into which another soldier dipped a small can and then threw liquid from the bucket onto wooden portions of the buildings.

Within a few minutes, the buildings erupted in flames. The other soldiers continued to shoot all around Lal Chowk. M. saw a waiter from the hotel come to the second floor window and scream, "Spare us!", and then he saw at least two soldiers fire at the man. The man fell backward. Then the soldiers threw liquid from the bucket on the gate of the hotel. Fire erupted. Another soldier pointed some kind of weapon at the top of the Standard Hotel and fired and the roof burst into flames. Then the Jammu and Kashmir police came and opened the bolt on the door from the outside and five persons came out of the hotel.

Majeed said that at about 10:30 a.m., he broke open a window at the back of the hotel and escaped down the staircase of the mosque next door. As he went he saw that the doors of two buildings adjacent to the new Standard Hotel were bolted from the outside and people were pushing on them from the inside. He ran to Barbarshah along the by-ways and two others from the hotel escaped with him.

Tauseef, a resident, stated that as he was returning from home from Maisuma Bazaar, he heard bursts from light machine guns. He took refuge with friends in a house on Red Cross Road from where they could see the BSF putting liquid on the Standard Hotel and other buildings which then erupted in flames. When Tauseef learned that his own house was on fire, he ran out on to Red Cross Road. He saw five BSF soldiers on the street, some of whom were gathered around a light machine gun outside the burning Standard Hotel. When Tauseef reached home, he found the front door bolted from outside, as were other houses in the lane. He and his mother and sister then fled to a relative’s house in another part of Srinagar.

Mohammad, another resident of Lal Chowk, stated that he heard shots at about 10:00 a.m. The security forces banged on the door of his house saying, "Come out, we will kill you." After that, he saw smoke coming from the right side of the house. Majid and his family escaped through the back door. Since the burning of their house, the family has lived in a hotel.

In all, 59 houses, 190 shops, 53 stores where inventory was kept, two office buildings, five commercial buildings, two schools and a shrine inside the building were gutted by the fire. Four people were killed: a woman, Shishi Chouralsy; a man, Rahool Chouralsy, about 20; a boy, Mudasir, 14, who died of bullet injuries; and Bashid Ahmed Tantri, 30, a waiter, who was burned to death. One hundred and twenty-seven families lost their homes.

(Some Names Have been Changed)

Gaw Kadal Massacre : "I lay motionless..."

By Sana Altaf

Again this year, Moisza did not celebrate her birthday. That day, January 22, once again brought back the memories of her maternal uncle, Rauf Ahmad, who laid down his life to save hundreds of people.

It was January 20, 1990, just a year after the Kashmiri insurgency against Indian occupation began. Faced with massive unrest as the insurgency swelled, the Indian government, unable to restore law and order, dismissed Kashmir's democratically elected National Conference government; the legislature and cabinet was dissolved and governor rule was declared. Indian bureaucrat Jagmohan Malhotra was appointed governor. That night, in response to militant attacks and the kidnapping of Rubaiya Sayeed - daughter of the former chief minister of Jammu and Kashmir, Mufti Sayeed - the Indian paramilitary Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) conducted warrantless house-to-house searches, arresting hundreds of people, beating them and allegedly harassing women.

As word of the night searches spread, enraged mobs began to fill the streets. Unaware of the chaos, five-year-old Moisza (whose full name has been withheld at her request) kept busy with her birthday preparations while the valley simmered.

"It was January 21. The whole city was under curfew. People had gathered to protest against the incident. The protest had started from Raj Bagh [Srinagar], marching toward Lal Chowk and Maisuma [the city center]," remembers Farooq Ahmad Wani, one of the survivors of the Gawkadal massacre.

Farooq, then working as an engineer in the water works department, was heading for the Divisional Commissioner's (DC) office for curfew passes, but when he reached Jahangir Chowk of Srinagar, he was not allowed to move in the direction of the DC office.

"I was not allowed to go to the DC office, where I needed to get curfew passes. The security men directed me towards Lal Chowk. I started walking towards Lal Chowk, thinking of visiting my uncle, who lived nearby, on the other side of the Gawkadal bridge," said Farooq.

In the meantime, the peaceful protesters had passed by Moisza's uncle Rauf's house. As Zulehama, Rauf's elder sister recalls, "I had gone to my mother's place and started packing up Rauf's clothes for his journey to Jammu. He had just returned from his ski course in Gulmarg, so he was dressed in the jacket and sports shoes, which he wore even while he was martyred."

However, Rauf, then 24 years old, had promised his beloved niece Moisza that he would attend her birthday celebration before leaving for Jammu.

"My elder daughter Moisza would spend most of her time with Rauf and my mother. She was the apple of his eye. He had assured her he would attend her birthday on January 22," said Zulehama.

But watching the protesters from the window of his house made Rauf uneasy. Zulehama still remembers his words: "How can we tolerate disgrace of our women? If we stay quiet, they [security forces] will get up to anything. We all should join the protest, or it will be immodest on our part."

Rauf performed ablutions and joined the protesters. A mob of men, women and children marched chanting through the streets and lanes. Farooq, who was heading to his uncle's house, walked casually by the peaceful protesters, but when they reached the Gawkadal bridge in the heart of Srinagar City, Indian security forces opened fire on them.

"As the protesters reached the Gawkadal bridge, one gunshot was heard first, which was immediately followed by indiscriminate firing," recalls Farooq.

The fearful protesters scattered, and the firing continued as the CRPF chased them through lanes and alleys. Some of the protesters jumped into the Jhelum River. Those who could not escape were shot on the spot. Not a single person was spared.

"I had walked amid women thinking that they would not fire on them, but the CRPF men did not spare them either. Those who were injured were again shot in the head by the security personnel to make sure to kill them," recollects Farooq.

In this atmosphere of bloodshed and frenzy, the CRPF resorted to firing on the mob with machine guns. Zulehama sobs as she remembers what happened next. "Watching this, Rauf, who was a part of the protest, turned the machine gun towards himself. It pierced him deep with 32 bullets, saving scores of protesters while ending his life. As Rauf sacrificed his life for his nation and people, Moisza kept waiting for her darling uncle to celebrate her birthday."

As Rauf gave his life, Farooq struggled to live for his children. "I remembered my three daughters and thought of what would happen to them if I died," says Farooq. The girls were all toddlers at the time.

In an effort to save his own life, Farooq contemplated jumping from the bridge into the waters of the river Jhelum that flowed beneath it. But as he neared the edge of the bride to jump, a tall man came rushing at him, struck him and pinned him down to the ground before jumping into the water himself.

"I lay flat on the ground, scores of dead bodies around me. Not a single person was alive. I lay motionless to signal to them [the CRPF] that I was dead," Farooq said.

In the rush of the incident, a kangri, or heating pot, had crashed to the ground. Farooq's face lay on its hot ash as charcoal burned beside him. When he slowly turned his face to escape the heat, his motion caught the eye of a CRPF officer who quickly approached him.

"'He is alive,' an officer said aloud, abusing me in Hindi," remembers Farooq.

As the officer approached him, Farooq rose to his knees, his hands raised, pleading the officer not to harm him.

"Taking no sympathy on me, the officer shot the whole round of bullets into me with his carbine gun, knocking me down. I became half-unconscious, my body burning and feeling thirsty," recalls Farooq as his green crystal eyes dampen with tears.

After a while, Kashmir's local police arrived on the scene. As they surveyed the dead, they grew fierce with anger.

"I could see their faces red with sympathy for us and anger over the incident. Observing the anger of the police officials, one CRPF official slapped some of the local police personnel, asking them to leave or they will be shot, too," said Farooq. The policemen retreated.

Farooq again lost hope and lay back in pain when he was approached by a CPRF officer he assumed to be the subordinate of the one who shot him.

"He came toward me and saw that I was alive. He used abusive words and pointed his gun on my temple and began to press the trigger when the officer who had shot me before shouted from a distance, 'I have shot him enough. He will die on his own. Do not waste your bullet,'" remembers Farooq.

The official withdrew his gun and pushed Farooq to the ground. An eerie silence followed all around, which broke only when a truck landed to take the dead bodies. "A Sikh CRPF personnel stood near me, and I feebly pleaded with him to take me into the truck, as I was alive. He took hold of my muffler and dragged me into the truck along with other dead bodies," said Farooq.

The truck, filled with the dead, reached the police control room, where the corpses were unloaded. The control room doctor was called. The concerned physician examined them all.

"When the doctor saw me alive, he immediately ordered me to be taken to hospital, and I was rushed to hospital and saved," says Farooq, heaving a sigh.

Farooq remembers that besides him, a teenaged boy was also alive. The young man had taken a bullet in his knee and was crying fretfully in pain, but, upon reaching the control room, he ran away.

"The hospital was in chaos as all the dead were brought there. But on seeing me alive, people came to me, kissed me and hugged me. And amid all that, I noted a small boy holding my shoes close to his chest," smiles Farooq.

After two months of bed rest, Farooq recovered and returned to work. But the trauma stayed with him.

"I faced severe depression. I have been since taking antidepressants. When I work too much or think, I get tired. Doctors had even suggested that I relocate outside of Kashmir to overcome my condition. The incident has left a deep impact on my mind. Not a day passes when I don't think of that day," said Farooq.

The Gawkadal massacre left scores of people dead. While police say only 32 people were killed, eyewitnesses put the count at between 100 and 200 people. The most commonly used figure is 52. Since the incident has never been investigated, exact figures are still unknown.

Despite the clear evidence and eyewitness accounts, no known action was taken against any CRPF officials who ordered their forces to open fire at Gawkadal, or against the officers present during the shooting. No public inquiry was ordered into the incident. The police did file complaints against demonstrators who pelted stones at security forces, but even these were not investigated. Without an investigation into the events at Gawkadal, there will be no chance of holding those responsible accountable.

The Gawkadal massacre is regarded as the bloodiest massacre to date in the history of Kashmir. Human rights activists here see the incident as a turning point in the history of Kashmir, and define the killings as the primary catalyst for the mass militant movement. As Human Rights Watch said in a May 1991 report, "In the weeks that followed as security forces fired on crowds of marchers and as militants intensified their attacks against the police and those suspected of aiding them, Kashmir's civil war began in earnest."

"Gawkadal massacre changed the mindset of the people of Kashmir towards India. In that protest, only 10,000 people participated, but it followed mass protests in which hundreds thousands of people thronged to the streets," said Khurram Parvez, an award-winning Kashmiri human rights activist and cofounder of Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society.

Khurram said the Gawkadal massacre "pushed people to join militancy and receive training." Khurram's maternal grandfather was killed in the violence that day.

"I was 14 years of age then, and the man behind that massacre lived next door. It was a torture to see him every day. As a young boy, I had decided to take revenge on him, but then, as I grew up, I realized that the greatest revenge would be fighting for justice," says Khurram.

Twenty-one years later, the situation in Kashmir remains unchanged. The security forces' killings of innocents have not ceased, nor has the government's indifference towards such incidents. On January 8, 2010, 16-year-old Inayat Ahmad was killed in a shooting by Indian security forces. Ahmad's killing was followed by the death of 13-year-old Wamiq Farooq, who was hit in the head by a tear gas shell. Death came to 16-year-old Zahid Farooq after he was allegedly shot by security forces, having done nothing to provoke them, while playing cricket on February 5, 2010.

The cycle of killings continued and took an even more violent turn following the killing of 16-year-old Tufail Ahmad Mattoo, who was allegedly hit in the head by a tear gas shell as he was returning home from his tuitions. Tufail's death triggered valley-wide mass protests. Security forces used tear gas, gunfire and pellet guns against the protesters, some of whom observed total nonviolence, while others pelted the security forces with stones. The unrest seized Kashmir for six long months, which were dominated by stringent curfews and resulted in the killing of 112 civilians. Even the funeral processions of the deceased were fired upon.

Shares Irfan Mattoo, Tufail's uncle, said, "They [security forces] thwarted Tufail's funeral procession by using force against mourners. I and many of our relatives, including Tufail's father, could not participate in the last rites due to unwarranted restrictions."

Seventeen-year-old Javaid Ahmad was killed when security forces fired on the funeral procession of another teenager, Mohammad Rafiq.

Despite wide condemnation from human rights organizations and activists, the state government has ordered probes into only 17 of the 112 killings.

As an August 18, 2010, press statement by the Indian human rights organization People's Union for Civil Liberties states: "Repression is bound to further alienate the people and lead to more unrest. The PUCL strongly condemns the continuing killing of unarmed protesters by police firing in the Kashmir valley even if a few from the crowd might have pelted stones at the police or the security forces. The policy of bullets for brickbats followed throughout the country is inhuman even under a dictatorship and is totally unacceptable in a democracy."

The statement adds, "had the state government policy been to punish the guilty policemen or members of the security forces perpetuating these crimes instead of protecting them by subverting the course of justice, people in such a large number would not have risen in the unarmed revolt to which we are a witness today."

Seeking an end to the human rights violations in Kashmir, Delhi-based independent human rights observer and writer Professor Badri Raina said: "I believe human rights violations can diminish, perhaps cease, only if and when an Egypt-like, nonviolent, secular, mass movement is forged and allowed to sustain itself by all sides to the conflict. By 'all sides,' I do mean the state agencies, the local militants, the infiltrating Jihadis, the Hindutva hotheads and all those who make money from mayhem."

Originally appeared in http://www.truth-out.org

Imagining Srinagar - Sarajevo

The City is the memory of massacres. I hope words grow out of Gaw Kadal, Hawal, Burzalla, Zakura – cancerous, as Genet’s love of the Palestinians…

Srinagar is a city in mourning. Who remembers Srinagar in winter? The winter sky is a Hiroshima sky. The city is the martyrs’ graveyard at Eidgah.

The life of Srinagar is mourning,

To recover that memory, or to forget?

The brightness of the sky in Srinagar is cruel.

The midnight soldiers demand forgetting… They promised us flags of Fatah, they tantalised us with Jerusalem? But where did the Palestinians go?

I am a Kashmiri Palestinian; Srinagar Sarajevan. I no longer live in Srinagar but I see Srinagar as the absolute present of freedom. Of Srinagar’s singularities I can never forget the terrible Beauty of the Srinagar Intifada, Srinagar’s Rivers of stones. Why talk about this

Revolution? It too resembles a long drawn out burial, with me following the funeral procession from afar.

Naipaul writes of Srinagar that it sleeps through winter… in the winter of 1990, Srinagar is Berlin-Budapest-Bucharest, and Srinagar is Sarajevo. Naipaul’s medieval city explodes the night of January 20th 1990… on the stroke of midnight. My mother and grandmother are indifferent; they go back to sleep. I put on my phiran. I cross over to my neighbour’s; the women prepare kehava for the men while they are getting dressed. The women prepared kehava for the Sarajevans before they disappeared in the Hills. My neighbour is ecstatic. “I take no chances. I am ready. The UN is coming. Tomorrow is Independence Day”. They call the Faithful to the mosques…

Khoon-e-Shahida Rang Laya/ Fatah Ka Parcham Lahraya/ Masjid-e-Aqsa Roti Hain/ Kyon Yeh Tabahi Hoti Hain ((Blood of the martyrs has born the fruit/ the flag of victory waves from the root/ Masjid aqsa is wailing/ why this destruction is prevailing?)

… The loudspeakers speak to the Muslims. They killed more than a hundred demonstrators that night, the night of the Gaw Kadal massacre. The night of January 20th – the night of massacres.

“Srinagar, my friend, is the most dangerous city in the world”, said the JKLF sympathiser.

“Here the oppressor and the oppressed are too close to destroy”.

The intimacy nurtures Srinagar’s first suicide bomber for 9 years. Afaq, the Jaish suicide bomber who blows himself up outside the Army Cantonment (the ancient Srinagar of King Pravarsena) is just 5 years old in 1990.

January 1990 to March 1990 Srinagar is Prague, The city of demonstrations. They march to the United Nations Military Observer Group in India and Pakistan. There is a

Demonstration of Srinagar Chambers of Commerce, of students, of auto drivers, of Policemen… the incessant demonstrations last the winter. The March demonstration brings more than 1 million Kashmiris to Srinagar. People offer food to the demonstrators on the roads to Srinagar. Kashmiris turned azaadi demonstrations into an Urs fair. The soldiers open fire on the demonstrators… kill 10, 20, 50 Kashmiris, as many as it takes to clear the streets, the downtown bylanes – the hecatombs of the slaughtered.

The city is Curfewed for 17 days. There is no relaxation in the Curfew for 17 days in Downtown Srinagar, the nerve centre of the Kashmiri revolt. The Army is out in Kashmir, the schools, the hospitals turn into barracks and bazaars into battlefields.

Everybody blames the government. I blame myself. I cross many military checkpoints on the way to school after the curfew days, fearless, in identification with the men behind the sandbags. You carry your identification on you. India’s national emblem emblazoned on

the ID card. Ashoka’s Lions – the symbol of India’s commitment to peace, the sole guarantee of your existence. There’s also the vague assurance: Truth alone shall prevail.

My grandmother blames Sheikh Abdullah for this permanent Revolution, the Inquilab. My mother is overanxious, all Srinagar mothers are overanxious:

Hum Hindustan ka khate hain, Always. I listen to Radio Azad Kashmir. I fight with my mother. I change. Spring is the season of blood. The JKLF militants hide in sewers or shrines before the city opens its doors. Buddhist monks fleeing persecution had sought sanctuary in Srinagar. Now the JKLF marches to Chrar-e-Sharief. They vow liberation. They fail. No one, nothing can put into words the six months, and especially the first weeks, in Srinagar

In 1990, Things get worse. The Pandits leave Kashmir. Srinagar lays siege to Jammu and Delhi as refugees. I am no longer in Green Vale, my school. The Green Vale School is miniature Srinagar; the experimental school humbled by its rival – the Muslim Educational Trust. Green Vale is Albinioni’s adagio, the Romeo-Juliet Bridge in Sarajevo. We study the Ramayana in class. We speak of Yusuf’s Beauty and Yaqub’s Patience. Inallaha ma’al Sabireen. Allah is with the Patient.

I remember my Srinagar… Tushar loves Muslim mythology (Friday sermons to bribe Tushar), Deepu roots for Pakistan in the India-Pakistan hockey matches, Vivek’s father lend me the book on Dialectical Materialism and I lose my religion to Vishal’s 25-paisa Hindu roti, my Kashmiri Shaivism… the city of absences. I’m everything you lost. You won’t forgive me.

“Send him to Bombay with us. We can take care of him. He is quite talented. Yeh yahan is mahool mein kya karega” (What will he do in this chaotic environment?), The Principal tells my mother. I change my school. My new school is New Era, New Era Public School. We dodge grenades for years to meet friends at Hideout Café where I exchange Poetry for coffee and the azaadi

I carry with myself is the moment when I kicked the barricade outside a military bunker.

There is no news of us in the world. People tune to BBC Urdu every evening at 8:30 & 11:00… we become the children of news. "Yeh BBC London hai" (This is BBC London)… we lower the volume so as not to attract any attention and huddle over the radio as if it’d tell our truth to us.

There is no electricity in Sarajevo, no electricity in Srinagar. Srinagar is deserted in winter. Blackouts. BBC London. No electricity for days. Before dying my grandmother looked out the window at the sky and said, “Now I want to be free”.


You can choose your target in Srinagar-Sarajevo, kill the son and then shoot the mother in the stomach so that she can watch him die before her own death. They keep firing to even kill two people you end up firing for minutes. It isn’t easy to kill people.

People hear shouts from interrogation centres. Landmines tore bodies to bits and pieces, severed the limbs and peeled off faces as if they were masks. Five thousand years of Srinagar is ruins, the shatter of shrapnel. The ruins of Beirut. The ruins of the spirit. The spirit is Sabra, the spirit is Shattila.

The relatives of nearly 2,000 people who disappeared are still tracing their loved ones.

“Please tell us whether they are dead or alive”. They destroyed the memorial that the children of the disappeared had built for their missing fathers. They write slogans with the barrels of

their guns, the seven-year-old boy’s splattered brains their ink. The Sikh soldier confesses in the Crackdown… he pulls out this diary to read out names of localities where if attacked they must fire indiscriminately, to kill. “Here on the Airport Road we must be careful”.

In spring as the almond trees bloom, the war tourists come to Srinagar, Journalists from Delhi. They occupy the Ahdoos Hotel on river Jhelum in the restaurant at Ahdoos the air is thick with xenophobia that the journalists carry with them from Delhi. Loss and suffering, just like the global debt, are negotiable and for sale.

Welcome to Sarajevo.

The ubiquitous TATA bus transports dreams to Lal Chowk “ Apoor, apoor” (across, across the Jhelum) to Lal Chowk. Srinagar-Sarajevo is the city of Border Crossings. Crossing over is quite common. The bus crosses Miljacka-Jhelum to apoor apoor Lal Chowk. Cross over to Srinagar-Sarajevo. The Land of Forgetting, Paradise on Earth. And then the boys of the border crossings also get killed… 73 on 5 May 1991… People in Srinagar mourn them in colourful wedding tents.

This then is the Imaginary of my Srinagar,the houses abandoned by Kashmiri Pandits, Pir-e-Rishiyan Nund Rishi, Lalla Ded, Nagarjuna, Abhinavagupta, Left melancholy, the fetishism of Kashmiri nationalists, the hyacinth roofs, fin-de-siècle bricks, the Jewish faces (I too am a bit of a Jew), the Aryan noses, Lal Chowk and other squares, Hideout and other Cafés and saints’ shrines.

The Space in my city is a ribbon of bullets.

Hind Bookshop no longer exists and there are no books in Kashmir Bookshop. Lal Chowk is set ablaze. Palladium cinema is destroyed. Only the facade of the foyer is left…the broken wall frames the singed Srinagar sky as the screen of the Palladium’s past…countless Hindi films fade to flames. I see Dr. Guru’s dead body. There is a hole under his neck… tears flow… this must be madness. My friend, how can I share your grief? They shot Dr Guru in cold blood outside his hospital. We move out with the funeral, they shoot at the funeral procession… I lie buried under people bicycles people… La Illaha Illallaha Muhammada Rasul Allah… this is Death. I run. They killed everybody, they killed everybody…and they killed just one man… I follow him through blood on the road and hundreds of pairs of shoes the mourners left behind, as they ran from the funeral, victims of them firing… “Who remembers who killed whom?”… I turn to psychoanalysis and Buddhism.

Maybe in the words of Fawaz Turki, I am too young to be Kashmiri. I am running away.

How long do I run?

Lest We Forget : Gaw Kadal Massacre

On January 20, 1990 Jagmohan’s first address as governor stunned everybody. It was provocative. H e said:” I have come as a nurse. I will not take any salary. I will just take rupees 1000 to meet my personal expenses. I have promise you a clean administration. But if anybody creates a law and order problem, Meray Haathon say Aman ka patta Khisak jaye ga (the cards of peace I’m carrying will slip away from my hands).
It was clear warning to the people of Kashmir. And in less than 24-hours the threat was carried out.

It was January 21, 1990. The whole city was under curfew, massive search operations were going on in Srinagar city by Indian occupational forces to trace down the Militants. Shocking news spread all over. Many women had been molested and arrest of nearly 400 hundred people sent shock waves through Srinagar. Young and old came out to register their protest.
Allah-o-Akbar Kabeeran Cabrera (Allah is great; greater than the greatest).This slogan was chanted across Srinagar that evening. People gathered to protest against the incident.


In the meantime the peaceful protestors from various areas of Srinagar had reached Maisuma, shouting slogans. As the protestors reached the Gawkadal Bridge, the procession was intercepted by a party of J&K police and CRPF led by the notorious Deputy Superintendant of Police Allah Baksh. The men in uniform opened fire without any provocation. The fearful protestors scattered everywhere, and they were making their way through lanes, CPRF men were chasing the protesters. Those who co
uld not escape were shot, not sparing single man alive. “I had walked amid women thinking that they would not fire on them but CRPF men did not spare them too. Those who were just injured were again shot in head by the CRPF officer to make sure to kill them,” recollects Farooq Ahmad a survivor of the mayhem.

While everyone was running, people saw something that had never happened in Kashmir before. A CRPF trooper with a light machine gun (LMG) was firing indiscriminately on the unarmed people. Young boy Abdul Rauf Wani went to him and tried to snatch his gun. The trooper sensing danger emptied the entire magazine in to his chest. Rauf fell in a pool of blood, but not before he saved many lives of his brethren. Salute to this unsung Hero!



52 people were martyred and 250 sustained bullet injuries. As usual the official death was put to ‘21’. Police registered an FIR (NO.3/90) at police station Kralkhud against atrocious mob. But it makes no mention of the police and CRPF action.
21 years on, the case has been closed and he culprits have been declared ‘untraceable’.

Sopore Massacre 1993:"The memories of this incident will haunt me till I am alive"

“PERHAPS THERE IS A SPECIAL CORNER IN HELL Reserved for soldiers who fire their weapons indiscriminately into a crowd of unarmed civilians. That, at least, must have been the hope of every resident who defied an army-enforced curfew in the Kashmiri town of Sopore last Thursday to protest a massacre that left 55 people dead and scores injured. It was India's latest blow in a three-year campaign to crush the predominantly Muslim state's bid for independence. In retaliation for the killing of one soldier, paramilitary forces rampaged through Sopore's market setting buildings ablaze and shooting bystanders. The Indian government pronounced the event "unfortunate" and claimed that an ammunition dump had been hit by gunfire, setting off fires that killed most of the victims” said the TIME Magazine in a column on Jan. 18, 1993.
The history of Kashmir is replete with blood-curdling massacres perpetrated by security forces of which the wounds of infamous Sopore carnage are still fresh in the hearts of the aggrieved families. 17 years on, the government enquiry into the massacre has yielded nothing.

Incidentally, the incident occurred one month after the Babri Masjid was demolished by Hindutva mobs in Ayodhya.
It was Wednesday chilly morning of January 6, 1993 when Border Security Forces (BSF) went berserk at around 9.30 am killing around 75 unarmed civilians including women and children, wounding nearly 300 people and property worth crores was completely gutted in the apple town of Sopore. On the fateful day, more than 300 people were injured in the tragic incident.
The innocent civilians were either shot dead or charred to death alive by the BSF personnel in order to avenge the death of a trooper who was killed when the BSF picket at Baba Yousuf Lane near the main street of Sopore town was attacked by militants just one hour before the mayhem occurred. The militants had also taken away the light machine gun of the trooper as he fell before absconding from the spot.
According to many eye-witnesses of the incident, the BSF personnel had publicly announced that they would teach the people a lesson for the killing of one soldier by the militants. At around 9.30 am, in retaliation to the killing of the trooper, the BSF personnel came out of their camps in and around Sopore and smashed almost everything which came their way. They resorted to indiscriminate firing and resorted to arson soon which is believed to be the biggest of its kind since the turmoil hit the valley in 1988.
The BSF jawans sprinkled gun powder along the market and set ablaze about 100 houses and 300 shops including Women's degree college and Samad Talkies. The carnage continued for around two hours. The firemen who had rushed to the spot were not allowed to extinguish the flames and had to wait for two hours to start the fire-fighting operations. Flames and thick clouds of smoke from the fire-ravaged structures were billowing out till late evening, the local residents recall. The maximum casualties were reported due to the fire and firing incidents.
The troopers fired upon the passengers of an SRTC passenger bus, JKZ -1901 which was leaving for Bandipora and set the bus on fire after dousing it with gunpowder and in the process killing its 26 occupants. No passenger was allowed to come out of the vehicles when the bus was subjected to heavy firing, according to the eyewitnesses. Similarly, all the passengers of a car, JK 6075 were also charred to death. They also showered bullets on the father and son who were loading goods onto their truck in the Iqbal market leading to their on-the-spot death.
An eyewitness of the massacre who had miraculously survived the gruesome incident narrated how the angry troopers rampaged through the main market, went for a frenzied searching spree in every shop to prey on their catch and sprinkled the gun powder on the shops so that there was least possibility of the survival of the hapless victims.
While recollecting the horrendous incident, he added, "I was not mustering courage to step out of my shop on seeing the troopers who were running here and there, firing indiscriminately on the people on all sides. Suddenly a trooper entered into my shop and cocked his gun. But before he could fire the bullet at me, I offered him a brief case containing heavy cash. While he got engaged in counting the money, I somehow managed to escape from the spot amidst the firing."
Many eyewitnesses of the gory incident said how the jawans brutally consigned people including children to flames. "I cannot forget the heart-rending incident when a trooper snatched a small child from the lap of a woman and threw it into the flames. As the mother of the child started shouting the trooper killed the woman on-the-spot by firing several rounds of bullets on her. The memories of this incident will haunt me till I am alive," said an eyewitness and survivor of the carnage who was watching this dastardly act from a distance.
Intriguingly, the state government in Jammu did not know about the developments in Sopore till 4 pm. It was only on account of some queries made by some press persons that the authorities began to make their own enquiries.
It took several days to the relatives of the victims in removing the charred bodies from the fire-ravaged structured including shops, houses and government buildings. Curfew restrictions in the town, inclement weather and police action on the protesting family members and close relatives of the victims, who were engaged in removing the charred bodies from the gutted areas, rendered the task of tracing the bodies of their kith and kin difficult.
Most of the charred bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. The close relatives who had also come from Bandipora, Pattan and Baramulla found it hard to identify the victims. "The only portion that had survived was the arm of my father; rest of the body was completely burnt. We could recognize his charred body with the help of the piece of jacket on his arm," said the son of the deceased. In Srinagar, instant strike was observed in response to the indefinite bandh call given by JKLF supported by many other militant outfits.
The media persons who rushed to the spot the next day saw Kangris (fire pots) and belongings of the people scattered on the roads and streets of the town with blood splattered all over. Remains of the charred vehicles lay in the middle of the road as mute witness to the gory incident. A team of 300 doctors from SKIMS hospital, Soura who had went to relief operations were reportedly reluctantly allowed by the army and paramilitary forces inside the town. Defying curfew restrictions, about 5000 residents of Sopore and Baramulla took out processions. Police resorted to teargas shelling and cane charging to disperse the demonstrators injuring scores of people including women and children. Similar demonstrations were held in Srinagar, Pulwama and Budgam.
The state authorities put the toll at 40. While the official handout circulated to the media claimed that the fire broke out due to some explosive material dumped in the market hit by the gun fire, the then governor, Girish Chandra Saxena, while expressing grief over the loss of precious lives in a special broadcast on Radio Kashmir next evening had said that the 40 persons died in the backdrop of heavy exchange of fire between militants and security forces. The official handout further read that the 'Operation Goodwill' which had been initiated by Indian government to wean off the massive public support to the militants those days had met its fate acompli due to the horrendous incident.
Saxena, who had visited Spore a day after the incident along with other high rung officials, announced an exgratia payment of Rs one lakh to the next of kins of those killed in the tragedy and 50 per cent, subject to maximum loss of property to those rendered homeless. The state government also claimed to have suspended an inspector and two sub-inspectors of the BSF involved in the Sopore massacre.
Owing to the mounting pressure and widespread condemnation from various quarters, the state government ordered judicial probe by a sitting High Court judge into the incident. The director general of the BSF also ordered a parallel BSF staff inquiry into the incident under the BSF Act. The then Jamat-e-Islami leader, Syed Ali Shah Geelani, termed the probe as an "eyewash" and called for boycott of compensation and any government probe which received a tremendous positive response from the aggrieved families.
A Sopore Commission headed by Justice Chaudhary was set up by the state government to probe into the killings, gutting of the property, quantum of force used by the security personnel on the duty, fixing of responsibility and to suggest remedial measures to prevent the recurrence of such events. The commission, however, failed to prove its efficiency in the wake of laid-back attitude by the Justice Chaudhary and finally the Sopore probe panel drew blank. The case was later handed over to Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) but years later the subsequent investigations are still inconclusive.
Afzal Sofi, son of late Abdul Majid Sofi, 36, the one among those passengers killed by heavy firing on the SRTC bus on the fateful day, is still waiting for the punitive action against the guilty. Before leaving from the house for his duty in Baramulla, Abdul Majid, who was government employee at Handloom Corporation in Bandipora, had given few coins to his nine-year-old son for the candies.
Perplexed by the news of the incident, Afzal, now a youth in twenties, recalls how pall of gloom had descended on his family. "Our neighbours were trying effortlessly to pacify us, but to no avail. Suddenly one of our neighbours sitting on the roof of her house yelled, "Lo! There he comes." On hearing this I immediately ran to the main gate to receive my father and spread my little arms around his affectionate shoulders. As I opened the door, I saw hoards of people carrying the dead body of my father to my utter shock. I was completely broken," said Afzal as he was sobbing.
"Looking at the experiences of the fate of previous inquiries ordered by the government, we do not have any hopes that the justice would be done," he added. (KASHMIR TIMES)

The local residents regard the incident as one of the worst massacres in the history of Kashmir.

“I cannot forget that horrendous incident till I am alive; the troops were on rampage; I lost two relatives in the incident,” said Ali Muhammad, an eyewitness and survivor of the carnage. “I wonder can doomsday be worse,”

The mayhem continued for more than two hours with people—helpless and hopeless—watching the devastation from a distance. None from the civil administration or Fire Service Department were allowed to the rescue of the hapless people. Only the valor and heroism of the local populace made its appearance, helping each other. In one hour, the locals recovered the dead bodies of more than 50 civilians and miraculously rescued many more.

"Some fifteen civilians who tired to rescue their brethren were also shot dead by the troopers", said Abdul Majid, a survivor. Ghulam Nabi Bhat of New Light Hotel shouldered 11 dead bodies and before he could carry the 12th, he too was shot dead.,” he added.
The dead

Victims included:

* Abdul Majid Sofi, 35, S/o Muhammad Shafi R/o Krankshiwan
* Abdur Rashid War S/o Ghulam Muhammad War R/o Tujarsherief, Sopore
* Abdul Khaliq Malik S/o Ghulam Mohi-ud-Din R/o Arampora
* Abdul Ahad Kanjwal R/o Muslimpeer
* Abdul Ahad Shalla R/o Shallapora
* Abdur Rashid Sofi S/o Abdul Jabbar R/o Wanagam, Bandipora
* Abdul Ahad Liloo,70, S/o Baba Yousuf, Sopore
* Abdur Razaq Chalkoo S/o Ghulam Muhammad
* Bashir Ahmad Shalla S/o Ghulam Rasool R/o Shallapora, Sopore
* Farooq Ahmad Banday S/o Abdur Rashid R/o Sangrampora, Sopore
* Ghulam Nabi Zargar alias Shaheen S/o Qadir Joo R/o Badamibagh Sopore
* Ghulam Muhammad War S/o Muhammad Sultan R/o Tujarshrief
* Ghulam Nabi Bhat S/o Haji Abdullah R/o Sangrampora
* Gulzar Ahmad Sheikh S/o Muhammad Abdullah R/o Shahabad Sopore
* Ghulam Mohi-Ud-Din S/o Assadullah R/o Nathpora, Bandipora
* Ghulam Rasool Sofi S/o Muhammad. Sultan R/o Langate Handwara
* Ghulam Muhammad Khan S/o Bandipora
* Ghulam Muhammad Hajam S/o Abdul Gaffar R/o Mohallah Hajampora,
* Mohd Hussain R/o Tawheed gunj Baramulla

Our History of Kashmir has been filled with gut wrenching stories of Massacres. The Sopore Massacre is the worst act ever done against the Humanity, which would even put Genghis Khan to Shame. The Courts may have delayed and ultimately denied the Justice to the victims, the people giving shelter to the barbarians by outrightly denying any involvement but the wounds are still to be healed. The Kashmiris will never wake up from this inhumane nightmare, the screams and the cries are still heard in the Sky. Almighty is watching the oppressed and the helpless. For Justice and Freedom will arrive.

Chotta Bazaar,11 June 1991

On 11 June 1991, nearly a dozen CRPF men came out charging from their camp situated near the Government Medical College Karan Nagar here. Blood in their eyes, they began firing indiscriminately at shopkeepers, passersby not even sparing women and children. By the time their guns ceased to boom in the adjacent Chota Bazar locality, dozens of innocent civilians had been killed in what remains one of the bloodiest massacres in Kashmir’s 20-year-old turmoil — the Chotta Bazar massacre.

Though official figures put the toll at 18, locals say at least 28 people were killed and scores injured in the indiscriminate CRPF firing on the day.

“I remember it was around 6 pm. Everything was normal in the area when suddenly the CRPF troops came out of the camp. Yelling abuse, they began firing indiscriminately at two watchmen posted at the gate of the Government Medical College. Both died on the spot,” said an eyewitness to the incident.

He said immediately troopers barged straight into a shop opposite the GMC and fired indiscriminately at people inside.

This time, the victim was a doctor of the SMHS hospital’s Ophthalmology department, who was shot dead while he frantically showed his identity card to the obstinate troopers.

That was just the beginning of the CRPF frenzy. They stopped passing by auto rickshaws and matadors near the adjacent National School.

Three drivers, a conductor and several passengers including a 75-year-old woman from Chotta Bazar and a 14-year-old boy from Nawab Bazar were dragged out and shot dead. Their next target was a nearby mechanic workshop.

Eyewitnesses recounted how the CRPF men entered the shop, shot dead the chief mechanic Rashid Mistri and one of his assistants while yelling Sab ko mardo (Kill Everyone).

Locals say around 2:30 pm that day, militants had attacked a CRPF bunker at Gada Kocha Zainakadal, barely half a kilometer away, injuring a few CRPF personnel.

Locals say that could be the only reason for the CRPF fury. “They behaved like beasts. I was in my shop when a CRPF officer entered in and fired at me. However, the gun got jammed and the officer ordered his men to sprinkle gun powder on me,” said a former shopkeeper of Chotta Bazar area who remained bed-ridden for over two years after the incident.

A senior police officer who served during that period told a local news gathering agency PBI that all those killed in the CRPF firing were civilians.

“The authorities ordered a probe and Justice Mufti Jalaluddin headed an inquiry commission into the incident. Late Advocate Jaleel Andrabi pursued the case vigorously for some years. However, after his killing by Indian army and the transfer of Mufti Jalalludin, the case went into oblivion,” the police offer said.

Even to this day a criminal case stands registered against the CRPF under section 302 at Karan Nagar police station.

An official at the police station said that the file had to be looked up in “some old records”.

Remembering Bijbehara: "We can never forget the moment when I had to dig the grave and bury my son myself,”

While the victims of Bijbehara massacre in which 40 people were killed and 160 others injured, are still waiting for the justice after 16 years, the residents of the town say that the fateful day will continue to haunt them as long as they are alive. It was on this day when Indian Border Security Force (BSF) personnel opened fire indiscriminately on the peaceful protesters who were demanding end of the siege around the holy shrine at Hazratbal Srinagar

Recalling the gory massacre of October 22, 1993, Hamid says, “It was Friday and people offered prayers at historical Jamia Masjid. Afterwards a massive procession of peaceful protesters was taken out. They were demanding end of the siege around the holy shrine at Hazratbal Srinagar. After reaching near highway the BSF personal started firing indiscriminately on the unarmed protesters from three directions killing 40 people on spot and injuring 160.”

“After hearing the news of my second son, Muhammad Altaf Hussian having achieved martyrdom in BSF firing, we all rushed to the spot to bring his body home. On reaching there it seemed difficult to locate the body of my son as hundreds of people, both dead and injured, were lying scattered. It was like fishing out the body from the river of blood and finally we found his bullet ridden body to be carried in a coffin to the graveyard for burial," said Nazir, adding that it was no less than a dooms day as the entire town was mourning the death of their loved ones.

“We can never forget the moment when I had to dig the grave and bury my son myself,” he added.

Nazir hopes that the blood of tens of thousands of martyrs including his son who sacrificed their lives for the cause of freedom will not go in vain.

“Freedom demands blood and we have given it and will continue to give till we achieve it. I believe that the blood of our martyrs will never go waste,” he said.

Citing the example of Manzoor Ahmad Baddar who lost his life in the massacre, a resident Sameer Ahmad said , " Manzoor who was not only the sole bread winner for his family but the lone brother of five sisters achieved martyrdom in the massacre. Manzoor’s house since his death continues to be locked. Since all her sisters were married and her ailing mother was left with no option but to live with one of her daughters in her in-laws’ house.”

"We can never forget the scene when the family members of the martyrs were themselves burying the bodies of the dear ones as there was no one to console them or lend them a hand as the entire town had turned into state of mourning".
Recalling the day, Riyaz Ahmad, who survived the massacre, said that the BSF personal involved in the massacre have not been punished yet.

"Even after being identified by the eyewitnesses of the massacre the troopers involved in the killing of 40 people have not been punished yet,” he added.

Bijbehara Arson: "...Five persons were burnt alive"

REPRISAL KILLINGS

On March 18, 1994, at about 12:45 p.m. an army jeep belonging to the G-2 Rashtriya Rifles unit struck a land mine two kilometers away from the village of Mahand in the district of Bijbehara. The jeep was damaged and two soldiers reportedly injured. According to a report by PUCL, immediately following the mine blast, the soldiers stopped a bus that was travelling on the road toward Mahand, ordered all the passengers to disembark and then beat them. The incident was also investigated by retired Justice Bahauddin Farooqi of the human rights organization the People’s Commission of Enquiry. Later that night the soldiers returned to Mahand, cordoned off the village, and ignited gunpowder in three houses, two of which were vacant. The vacant houses belonged to Abdul Gaffar Bhat and Ghulam Mohiuddin Dar. The third house belonged to Ghulam Qadir Wani and his brother-in-law Abdul Rahman Naiku. Five members of his Family, including three children, died in the explosion and fire. Wani’s wife Azi and niece Jamila died later in the SMHS hospital in Srinagar. Abdul Rahman Naiku was injured in the fire.

Ghulam Qadir Wani told PUCL that on the night of March 18 he was sleeping on the second floor of the house. His wife, Azi, son Abdul Salam, 25, sister-in-law Mrs. Rathi, 35, her two children, Javid Ahmed and Jamila, and two other grandchildren, Shaista and Imtiaza, were sleeping on the ground floor.

“At about 11:00 p.m. I heard voices in my compound. I got alarmed and got up and peeped through a window. I saw some army personnel numbering ten to twelve equipped with arms and knives. Frightened, I returned to bed. At 3:45 a.m. the army personnel, who had disappeared for some time, reappeared. They were shouting insults ("Haramzado Bahar Ajao" -- Come out you bastards). I came down but I could not open the door as it was bolted from outside. The moment I went back upstairs, a blast like a thunderbolt occurred. Instant flames surrounded our house, especially the ground floor in which our family members were sleeping. Somehow I managed to jump to the ground from the back of the house. I saw some military personnel running and whistling. It was about 4:30 a.m. I could see some neighbors coming for rescue. They brought some pumps and gradually controlled the fire”

Hari Krishan, 19, a member of the only Hindu family who remained in Mahand after the conflict broke out in 1990 told PUCL:

“Towards the end of the night I heard three successive blasts. I immediately tried to get out of my house to see what had actually happened, but my family did not allow me. After some time I was able to convince my parents that it was our moral duty to share the grief and sorrow of our neighbors who have always rendered their help and cooperation to us. I rushed to the spot and found that two houses have been blasted and one set on fire, roasting the family members inside. I also found the cow shed and a stable on fire wherein three horses were also roasted alive.”

Other witnesses told the People’s Commission of Enquiry that they saw army soldiers running away after the explosions, and calling to each other to get away quickly.

At around noon on March 18, Ghulam Mohiuddin Sheikh was traveling by bus from Mahand to Bijbehara, when the bus was stopped by the army at the village of Satkipora, where the mine blast had taken place. He told PUCL that the soldiers attacked the passengers, beating them with rifle butts and smashing the bus windows. The soldiers threatened the passengers coming from Mahand that they would be "taught a lesson." He continued:

“On that same night while I was in my house I heard three blasts and got up. I found the house of Ghulam Qadir Wani set on fire”

According to the People’s Commission of Enquiry, the government issued a press statement about the incident on March 19 which stated that an explosive substance was thrown by some unknown militants into the house of Abdul Rahmand Naiku at Mahand, Bijbehara, as a result of which the house-owner Mst. Azi wife of Ghulam Qadir Naiku [sic] and Mst. Hamida [sic] sustained injuries, who were hospitalised. The house also caught fire which engulfed another house in which five persons were burnt alive.

According to PUCL and the People’s Commission of Enquiry, no government or army officials visited the village to investigate the incident.

Jammu Massacre 1947: " A Father killed his daughters to save them from getting raped"

It is one of the least known genocides in the modern history. It was carried out with such a precision that it is difficult to find its traces, except in the memories of the survivors, and the tales of horror they passed on to their next generation. It started on November 6, 1947. Nearly two hundred thousand innocent Muslims were slaughtered by Dogra army and extremists in Jammu region.
The genocide was carried out to cleanse the Muslims from Jammu region. The Dogra troops backed up by the extremists succeeded in pushing half a million Muslims to Pakistan administered Kashmir and Pakistan.
Rashid’s father, brothers, sisters, wife, and a son were slaughtered Malik Abdul Rashid, a survivor from Reasi, currently settled in Rawalpindi, says he was 22-year old when the carnage happened.
“Men, women, children were killed in the cruelest manner, maimed, intimidated. The carnage continued for several days. I lost my father, brothers, sisters, wife, and a son,” Rashid said.
“I lost all my dears; the genocide has haunted me all my life,” he said.
On 4 November 1947, when Dogra troops entered Reasi, two highly esteemed citizens of the town, Khwaja Amkullah and Chaudhary Aziz-u-Din rushed to the office of then Deputy Commissioner Thakur Gavinder Singh, complaining against the entry of the troops when Peace Committees, comprising Hindus and Muslims, were already in place to maintain peace. Both of them were shot dead in the office.
“People were mowed down with machine guns and swords during the night. And those who had survived were assembled in a field where they were put to death. Some women who escaped jumped into Chinab river to save their honour,”Rashid recounts.
“Khwaja Ali Muhammad of Bhadarwah who was performing his duties as a public prosecutor at Reasi went to a police station to save his life, but the duty officer, a Dogra, handed him over to the RSS men. They dragged him out and tortured him so much that he begged them to kill him than torture him. But the barbarians cut his fingers one by one and told him ‘we will send your fingers to Pakistan’. He was killed near the court premises in broad day light,” Rashid said.

Rashid said Maharaja Hari Singh orchestrated the carnage to eliminate Muslims from Jammu.“Muslims were not even allowed to have weapons for self defense, but Maharaja distributed arms to the marauders of his community,” he said, adding the killers were trained and armed in RSS camps for the genocide.
He said that Maharaja Hari Singh who fled from Srinagar to Jammu on 26 October1947 ordered his troops to kill Muslims everywhere.
“The carnage started in remote villages, and many Muslims fled to towns and district headquarters. But the killers were everywhere. Hundreds of Muslims committed suicide to avoid torture,” he said.
The killers kidnapped the daughter of legendary leader Chaudhary Ghulam Abbas, the prominent leader of Muslim Conference. Mistari Ahmed-u-Din hailing from Mast Garh Mohalla of Jammu himself killed his two daughters fearing the Hindu marauders would rape them.

On 4 November Muslims who had escaped slaughter were asked to assemble in a ground near police station in Jammu so that they would be driven to Pakistan in buses. On November 5 and 6, 1947, scores of buses, trucks and lorries, loaded with women, children and old men were taken into the wilderness of Kathua forests where Hindu extremists and armed gangs butchered them like chickens.”

‘MY 3 SISTERS WERE ABDUCTED, TWO WERE RECOVERED, SURAYA IS STILL MISSING’
Another Kashmiri migrant from Jammu, Muhammad Khan Naqashbandi, told Greater Kashmir that his mother was killed and three sisters were abducted by the marauders while they were traveling to Pakistan.
Two of his sisters were recovered, but the youngest sister Suraya was still missing. Teary eyed Khan said,“My sister is still missing and I don’t know whether she is alive or dead. I survived because I was studying in Lahore when the carnage occurred. No Muslim can forget that genocide.”Naqashbandi said the slaughter was well planned and rehearsed to prevent people from acceding to Pakistan. Muslims were slaughtered at Mavera near Samba on November 5 and the next day carnage was carried out near cantonment in Satvari.

‘OUT OF 6000, 250 SURVIVED’
Abdul Qayum Qureshi, a witness of the genocide, hails from Dalpatian Mohalla of Jammu. Qureshi told this scribe that the blood-bath of Muslims in Jammu province had started several weeks ago but the hunt against Muslims intensified when frustrated Maharaja of the state entered into Jammu on 26 October 1947 and ordered his troops to kill Muslims wherever they can be found. Mohalla Dalpatian was a Muslim majority area where thousands of Muslims from other areas had taken shelter.
“There was a big ground where these refugees were camping. Volunteers were guarding them, but everybody lived in a state of fear. The extremists and Dogra soldiers had besieged the area but they did not dare to enter the area. Muslim volunteers led by a former army official Captain Naseer-u-din defended the camp bravely,” Qureshi said.

Qureshi narrated the horrors thus:
“Meanwhile a fresh group of refugees arrived but the ground was full so they were accommodated in an empty Haveli (a mansion). But the killers had taken positions in a trench close to the Haveli. And when people entered the Haveli premises, the killers started indiscriminate firing, but the Muslim volunteers fought back. Then a Dogra official, Chetan Chopra, arrived with the message that he wanted to talk to Captain Naseer-ud-din. Around 4 PM Captain Naseer returned saying the administration has announced a ceasefire and assured that the violators will be punished. The ceasefire continued for seven days but the situation remained tense. On 5 November Muslims were asked to assemble in the police lines Jammu. I remember about 26 trucks and buses were present in the police grounds. People were ordered to board the vehicles so that they could be driven to Pakistan via Sialkot border. The Dogra officials circulated a rumor that these vehicles have reached Pakistan. We had absolutely no idea that they were butchered in the Kuthwa and Samaba forests.
On 6 November a caravan of refuges in buses and trucks was driven towards the border area. I was also part of this caravan. But after half an hour drive the entire caravan was turned towards Bisna. Around 11 AM all of us, about 6000, were dragged out of the buses. Then they fired at us indiscriminately. The bloodbath continued for nearly three hours; like other people I took refuge in a canal. People hid under thorny bushes and wherever they could. At 3 PM the Dogra officials asked the survivors to come out hiding so that they could be driven to safe places. Having no alternative we came out, and fortunately on the directives of Sheikh Muhammad Abdullah we were later shifted to a refugee camp in Jammu. Only 250 had survived. My father was in the Valley and my two brothers were in Mirpur.”

The Massacre is long forgotten and lost in the memories of today. This massacre changed the History of Jammu Kashmir forever.